The Tale Of A Rose
by CillaT
Summary: A Pride and Prejudice variation of the classic fairytale Beauty and the Beast.
1. Prologue

Hey guys, this is my first ever non-one shot story in the JAFF fandom! The idea's been stuck in my mind for quite a long time and under the encouragement of some friends, I've finally managed to complete and start posting it. Since the story's already finished (it's only got 12 short chapters), I'll be posting every Tuesday and Saturday after today. _The Tale Of A Rose_ is basically a P &P variation of the classic _Beauty and the Beast_. I hope you find it enjoyable/interesting :)  
Beta credits to Felicia.

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"But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.  
You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it."  
– C.S. Lewis

 **The Tale Of A Rose**

 **Prologue**

Long, long ago, in the faraway northern kingdom of Pemberley, lived a very wise and just king, who ruled together with his beloved wife, who was the most gentle and kind. They brought peace and prosperity to their land, and their people loved them dearly. In the third year into their rule, the Queen gave birth to a son – Prince Fitzwilliam George Darcy, the heir to the kingdom. The king and Queen wanted more children, but soon gave up hope after the queen's fourth miscarriage. Knowing that they couldn't have more children, the couple paid all their attention to their little son that he wanted for nothing. Soon, the baby grew up into a very cheerful and bright young boy. He was kind forgiving like his mother, smart and persevering like his father, and was always very curious. But the young boy always felt very lonely when roaming the grand halls of the castle alone.

On the boy's tenth birthday, the King and Queen threw him a magnificent birthday celebration, and invited men and faeries from all over the world. When the time came for the faeries to present their presents, they came forth and asked him what his biggest birthday wish was.

"I wish I could have a younger sister to play with and to take care of," the young boy whispered into the ear of one of the faeries. When his wish was made known, it greatly distressed the King and Queen who wished for nothing but their son's happiness. But a young faerie quickly stepped forward to reassure them that their son's wish could come true, though at a great price. The King and Queen loved their child too much to worry about the price, so they eagerly agreed to the young fairy's demand.

Soon enough, the Queen was with child and the whole kingdom was overjoyed. They celebrated the news with extravagant festivals, balls and parties. But their happiness did not last long, for after a few months' time, their Queen died while giving birth to her second child – a beautiful daughter. Fitzwilliam insisted for and was given the permission and right to name his beloved younger sister, and came up with the name Georgiana, after their mother, Anne, and their father, George.

The King mourned for his wife's death. He became bitter and resentful and neglected his duties, his health and his children. Although the babe did manage to bring some semblance of light and laughter back to the family as she grew into a young girl, the castle was never the same without Queen Anne.

The eleven-year-old prince took care of his younger sister and never stopped blaming himself for his mother's demise. A year after the queen's death, the King had set sail on a diplomatic tour of neighbouring countries but never came back. His ship had crashed into a great rock, Fitzwilliam was told.

Prince Fitzwilliam Darcy, who was only twelve years old, barely a teen, had to succeed the throne, take over the kingdom and bring up his one-year-old sister. The young king, although burdened with great expectations and responsibilities, still took time out from his kingly duties to spend time with his sister. Princess Georgiana soon grew into a beautiful, gentle, and shy young lady, and at the age of twelve, already had many suitors – young princes and lords from nearby and faraway countries – asking for her hand in marriage.

At the age of thirteen, Georgiana met nineteen-year-old George Wickham, a lord's bastard son. Believing herself in love, she agreed to run away with him to a neighbouring country to wed in secret. Fitzwilliam, who had heard rumours about George's mother – a witch who lured Lords and rich men into her bed with dark magic and enchantments, discovered them in a small church just in time to interrupt their vows. When Fitzwilliam pronounced that George was not to receive a penny of Georgiana's inheritance, a title nor a place within Pemberley's Court, George immediately dismissed the priest and laughed at the young princess's naivety. He was arrested and thrown into the deepest and most feared-off dungeons right away.

Georgianna was inconsolable for weeks, and the siblings' relationship grew even closer, with the young girl vowing to never keep any more secrets from her brother.

Life returned to normal for the Darcys after a few months, until one day, George's mother went to the King demanding her son to be freed. Fitzwilliam declined her request and she promptly turned green with rage. The witch, with a wave of her staff, casted a spell onto Fitzwilliam and turned him into a horrifying beast.

"There is only one way to break this spell, and that is for you, an ugly beast, to find true love before your twenty-ninth birthday," she said while laughing at him. Then with another wave of her staff, she disappeared into a cloud of green smoke, leaving the sound of her cruel and cold laughter echoing within the four walls of the great hall.

When Georgiana heard the witch's maniacal laughter and the beast's sorrowful howl, she hurried into the hall only to find a horrid beast clawing at his fur and tearing his clothes apart.

"Georgiana! It is I, Fitzwilliam, your brother! I will never hurt you. Please don't run away from me!" he called out after her desperately, when he heard her scream of fright. She hesitantly approached the beast and listened to his account of the incident. She soon realised that he spoke the truth and immediately burrowed herself in her brother's furry but still comforting arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Oh brother, what have I done? This is entirely my fault! If only I was not so blinded by George's hateful and deceitful charms!" she cried.

"No, Georgiana, please don't blame yourself, everything is going to be alright," he said, trying his best to sooth his little sister and recompose himself. "I'm sorry that you have to go through this too – to rule an entire kingdom at the tender age of fourteen… I wish I had been a better brother, maybe… maybe then, I would have prevented all this from happening!"

"You can't say that! Oh, brother," she hiccupped and spoke between sobs. "I'm so sorry! What are we to do now?"

"It's all right little one; everything is going to be fine. I'll find a way to break the spell, and while I do that, you'll rule the kingdom in my stead. You'll make a great queen," Fitzwilliam said reassuringly to her, though his words sounded forced and hopeless even to his own ears.

"Please don't leave me alone, I will never know what to do without you!"

Months passed by, Fitzwilliam locked himself up in the West Wing of the enormous castle where everyone, except his sister, was forbidden from ever entering. Georgiana, after calming herself and accepting this reality, listened to her brother's advices and ascended the throne as Queen soon after.

Three years went by; Georgiana's visits to Fitzwilliam greatly lessened: from being at least a couple times every day in the first few months, to once a week, then slowly decreased once a month, and then they stopped altogether. Georgiana had moved to live in another castle that had not been lived in since their grandparents' time. Her last letter to him that was dated three months ago, had told him the news that she had fallen in love with Prince Charles Bingley II of Netherfield, who was one of Fitzwilliam's most loyal friends, and that their wedding was to be held in a week. She had expressed her regrets that her most beloved brother would not be able to attend her wedding and to witness her joy. It comforted Fitzwilliam to know that his little sister will always be cared for, though he knew he would miss her comforting presence most acutely.

Fitzwilliam felt lonelier than ever. He had no contact with anyone from the outside world at all, except occasionally, with his sister, but most importantly, he had no clue how he would ever find love.

He had but a little less than half year left – five months and a week, to be exact, to find a lady, fall in love with her, and make her fall in love with him, or he would forever remain a beast.

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Well, what do you think of Georgiana's dwindling visits? Think Darcy's going to succeed? Leave me some comments!


	2. Chapter 1

I have to say, I honestly didn't purposefully paint poor Georgiana in such a light, but I do understand your feelings. Hopefully, she'll redeem herself in the later chapters!

Thanks for your encouragements and support. Once again, beta credits to Felicia!

Here's our chapter 1 :)

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 **Chapter 1**  
 _Countdown: 5 months and 1 week_

"What is it, Papa? What's in the letter?" Lydia squealed in excitement after hearing her father's gasp of delight and disbelief. Mr. Bennet, a widowed merchant, lived with his five daughters – Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Catherine and Lydia in a little farm house several miles south of the castle. Mr. Bennet, who was once very rich, had lost all his wealth in a tempest at sea three years ago. To help their father support the family, the three eldest sisters, Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary worked in a book shop near their home.

"One of the trade ships I had sent off has arrived back in port!" Mr. Bennet exclaimed.

"What? But how did it escape the destruction?" Elizabeth asked while trying to get a glimpse of the letter. "It can't be, perhaps–"

"Oh, hush, Lizzy! Stop being such a bore! Perhaps God has finally looked upon us with pity!" Lydia interrupted her sister boisterously while pulling her uptight sister away from her father.

"Oh, yes! Lizzy, stop being ever so boring!" Kitty, for that was Catherine's preferred nickname, joined Lydia in hysterical giggles. "We are finally rich again!"

"I shall go into the city right away to check if it contains anything valuable," Mr. Bennet announced, ignoring his daughters' words. "I will be back in a week's time and I shall bring each of you a gift!"

Lydia and Kitty who were already giddy with joy immediately listed out all the fine dresses, ribbons, jewelleries and most fashionable bonnets they wanted. Mary asked for a few books, Jane asked for a simple piece of ribbon, and Elizabeth – a rose, as none grow in their part of the country.

"Papa, please do be careful," Elizabeth pleaded, while helping her father put on his coat then handing him his walking stick.

"I will," he promised, "take care of your sisters while I am away", he said to Jane and Elizabeth, the most level-headed and mature of them all, then kissed each of her daughters on their foreheads and left for the city.

But all the excitements and high hopes were not to be, as when Mr. Bennet reached the port, he found that his ship's cargo had been seized by officials to pay his debts, leaving him with no money to buy his daughters their gifts.

On his way home, Mr. Bennet got lost in a forest. It was filled with the echoing sounds of clashing thunder and the tree branches were swaying forcefully to the wind. Cold and drenched in rain, he was on the verge of giving up when he came upon a clearing at the edge of the woods where he spotted a huge brick castle in a distance partly hidden by the mist. Unable to believe his good fortune, he murmured a quick prayer of thanks and urged his horse, Phillip, to go faster.

As he neared the gothic castle, he climbed off his black stallion and forced open the tall gates with a rusty creak. He tied his horse to a sturdy tree nearby and walked on to the castle's entrance.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Mr. Bennet called out into the dark hall, walking in with trepidation. The gigantic front doors had opened after him knocking twice, but he saw no one behind the door nor was he welcomed in by a servant. Despite his worries and fears, his stomach growled and a blink of candlelight caught his attention. Walking towards the light, he found a long table that was laden with foods and drinks, and a wooden chest that was overflowing with jewels and expensive treasure laying beside the table. They all seemed to have been left for him by the castle's invisible owner.

"Whoever you are, thank you for being so kind to me," Mr. Bennet gasped in delight as he picked up a knife and a fork and started eating. He gobbled down as much food as his stomach could hold and then spent the night in the castle in a room not far away from the dining hall where he found a very comfortable bed and a warm fire.

When morning came, Mr. Bennet woke up groggily, feeling slightly disoriented when he realised he was not in his own bed in his farm house, but memories of all that had happened the night before soon came rushing back to him and he thanked the Lord for blessing him with such luck. He was just about to leave the castle with Phillip that was carrying the chest he had found last night, when he noticed a garden full of roses and recalled his favourite daughter's wish for a rose.

"I'm sure my dear Lizzy would love this," he said, smiling to himself as he picked the loveliest rose he could find. The second he snapped the flower off its stem, he heard a low and terrifying growl behind him and turned around to find a hideous beast staring down at him with blinding rage in his dark eyes. He stuttered and jumped back in fear.

"I give you a place to stay, good food to eat, and dry clothes to wear and this is the way you repay me? By taking away my most precious possession?" he menacingly accused.

"I– I'm so sorry– uh– good sir. Please do not hurt me! Please… I was just on my way out!" Mr. Bennet begged.

"You are a greedy thief! I have been nothing but kind to you, yet you still want more," he snarled. "Why?"

"No! No, this is not for me; it's for my dearest Lizzy! All she wanted was a rose; I love her more than anything in the world. Please let me go back to my daughters, they need me! Please!"

The Beast let out another low growl. "I will let you return home with gifts for all your daughters and to bid them a last goodbye, you shall come back within three days' time and stay in my castle as a prisoner or you and your family will all die." Mr. Bennet accepted reluctantly to this condition.

"Your horse will know the way back. Tell no one of this meeting," Fitzwilliam warned while sending the man on his way.

Mr. Bennet was greeted by all five of his daughters at the front gates when he finally arrived home. He was feeling especially tired after travelling on horseback for more than six hours while continuously replaying the Beast's words in his mind and fearing for his daughters and himself. He had wondered what would happen if he tried to speak of this to the higher authorities. People would no doubt question his sanity and he would get sent away from his girls, locked up in a miserable and lonely place! Who would take care of his family then? Mr. Bennet had known then that he could never let the truth be known to anyone aside from his two eldest daughters.

"Papa, what happened? Are you well? You are two days late! Was there really anything left on the ship? Where did you get your new coat and clothes?" Jane and Elizabeth immediately questioned, not caring one bit about their gifts, while Lydia and Kitty kept squealing and demanding for theirs.

"Yes, I suppose… that I was immensely lucky, to– oh, there is nothing to worry about anymore! I shall be going back into the city in three days to settle…" he trailed off.

"Settle what, Papa?" Elizabeth pressed on, sensing a melancholy air about him.

"What? Oh! Nothing… nothing, just… just some papers! Yes, some papers I need to read and sign," Mr. Bennet replied, waving a hand at her signalling the end of the conversation. Elizabeth frowned, but Mr. Bennet pretended not to have noticed it and started handing his daughters their gifts which Lydia and Kitty accepted most animatedly. Elizabeth, however, was determined to find out all that had happened, but resolved to speak with her father privately in his study after supper.

Supper was both a distressing and happy affair, with Mr. Bennet worrying about what to tell his Lizzy, and the two youngest girls chuckling amongst themselves about their good fortune. After the meal, Mr. Bennet was immediately dragged into his study by Elizabeth who promptly locked the door, sat her father down, and made him tell her everything that transpired during the nine days he was gone. After some hours of endless nagging from Lizzy, Mr. Bennet finally yielded and told his brightest child everything.

"Papa, do not go! Lydia and Kitty need you! We need you! You cannot possibly be thinking of going back there!" Elizabeth exclaimed after successfully prying the secret from her father. She had always been a sharp one, his dearest Lizzy.

"But Lizzy, don't you see? He will come back for all of you! What will I do then?" her father grieved.

Elizabeth paused, deep in thought, and then suddenly declared, "I'll go."

"No! Lizzy you cannot! Are you out of your mind?"

"You can't stop me. Lydia and Kitty need you. Jane and Mary will help with the household's income. This is partly my fault anyway, if it wasn't for me wishing for a rose, none of this would ever have happened! If I go, the Beast will not come back for all of you either." she reasoned.

"You can't do this! I will not let you! I am the one who is indebted to him, not you! I will not lose you to a beast! Not when it is I who caused the problem in the first place. Not when it is me who he wants!"

"There is no other choice, Papa," she said in a soft yet decisive tone. "I shall take your place. I will go to him first thing tomorrow morn."

And at that moment, Mr. Bennet knew that nothing would convince her otherwise, she had always been very stubborn, just like him, but he just _had_ to try to persuade her not to throw her life away like this one last time. "But Lizzy, surely you know how miserable a life you will have to lead…"

"Hush, Papa, he was, after all, very nice and generous to you at first," she said, though she wasn't really sure whether she said that more to comfort her father or to convince herself.

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What think you of the Bennets and of Darcy's behaviour? Leave me a review!


	3. Chapter 2

Some of you asked for explanations as to why Darcy didn't try to mingle in society/get to know more ladies before now. I think that it's mostly because he's ashamed of his appearance and afraid of what such a revelation of truth would do to his country and his sister - I mean, just imagine a beast ruling your country!  
Anyway, time for chapter 2! I really do hope that my story meets all your expectations!

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 **Chapter 2**  
 _Countdown: 4 months, 3 weeks and 5 days_

The Beast had been pacing impatiently and occasionally looking out of the window from his room since morning, watching for signs of movement, and awaiting the arrival of the man. It was already near sunset. Was he not going to come? Fitzwilliam frowned. He wouldn't dare. He had no idea what he should do with him. Keep him as a prisoner? But what use would he be if he was locked up in a cell? Perhaps he could be a servant. Perhaps he could help him dust the castle, Fitzwilliam thought. Perhaps he would be able to find a friend in the man? He would dearly love a new companion, but he highly doubted the man would ever want to befriend a beast. He let out a sigh that sounded more like a low rumble. He had just begun pacing again, just like the caged animal that he was, when a tiny black figure that was racing towards his castle caught his attention.

Fitzwilliam walked to the main door to greet his guest. The figure drew closer, and the horse slowed down to a trot. Fitzwilliam suddenly realised that it was not the old man he had been expecting. The figure was too slim to be that small and plump man from last night. It wasn't till the two were less than fifteen feet away when the Beast was finally able to make out the face and the slender curves of a young woman hidden under the dark cloak.

"I am Elizabeth Bennet, sir. I've come here to take my father's place," the girl said after dropping down into a curtsey. They had not even shared eye contact once since she got off her horse and walked towards the door with her head downcast. Fitzwilliam sighed. It must have sounded like a low rumble again, as he saw the girl glance up. Fear flashed across her face, but disappeared as quickly as it appeared as she bit her lips so hard that he thought they might draw blood. He stared into her rich brown eyes that were unusually bright, with flecks of gold that looked like stars in the night sky. In that moment, Fitzwilliam knew he was lost. He must have stared at her for far too long to be deemed proper for the girl cleared her throat lightly.

"I apologise," he bristled, startled to be drawn out of his reverie. "I am the master of this castle. I presume that your father had already told you about me." She nodded. "And that you are going to have to stay here forever." She hesitated a little before nodding again. "Good. I will show you to your room then. Follow me." His tone was commanding and brooked no argument, so she did as she was told.

As they walked up the grand staircase, Elizabeth started to take in her surroundings for the first time since entering the castle's grounds and immediately noticed how eerie and dusty it all was. Why had she never heard of stories and rumours about a beast living in her country's oldest castle? She briefly wondered. She held her head up high as she followed the horrendous-looking beast in front of her. There were crooked horns on his head, and his mane and fur were a shade of dark brown with streaks of black. Its mouth bristled with a row of sharp, jagged teeth that looked as though they were ready to rip and tear. Her heart was pounding with fear and she was trying her best to control the tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes at any moment. She had no idea how she was going to live in this haunting castle with a beast till Doomsday.

She had always thought she'd have a normal life: fall in love with a handsome young man who loved and respected her just as much, marry, have children, be a wonderful mother, then die at the ripe old age of seventy. In none of her daydreams or fantasies had she ever thought of living in a castle with a beast. It all seemed so surreal to her, yet there she was, walking behind the Beast, waiting to be shown into a dark, dirty and lonely cubicle where she would have to call her room.

After walking through long halls and turning at a million corners, her captor had finally stopped in front of a pair of big doors. Elizabeth absent-mindedly pondered how she was going to find her way back to her room if she was ever allowed to leave.

"This is your room," her captor said gruffly, while gesturing to the doors with a furry paw. Elizabeth flinched slightly, upon noticing the sharp claws, but the pair of dusty pink doors that was embossed with intricate designs caught her attention. She then muttered a soft thank-you as she opened the doors to her room.

Elizabeth let out a small gasp of surprise as she laid her eyes upon the grand interior and expensive furnishing of her room.

"This… this is _my_ room?" she asked, surprise and awe evident in her voice. She was absolutely stunned by the beautiful patterned glass windows, the grandeur of the furniture, and the bed that stood in the middle of the room that was of a size fit for a queen.

"Is it not to your liking? Would you rather be locked up in a cell?" He grumbled. "That could easily be arranged."

"No!" Elizabeth exclaimed, stunned by the ferocity in his voice. "I mean, yes, it is beautiful. Thank you," she murmured, turning back to face the Beast. She even managed to give him a small smile, and he gave a tiny nod in acknowledgement.

"There is an abundant supply of food in the kitchen down the stairs should you feel hungry. You are allowed to explore the castle and the grounds surrounding it. Do not even think of escaping from this castle and going home. Your family should be forgotten from now on. Do not wander into the woods before sunrise and after dusk, and do not ever venture into the West Wing–"

"Why? What is in the West Wing?" she interrupted, slightly annoyed with his strict orders and tiring rules. How could he demand her to simply forget her family – the ones dearest to her heart?

"Just don't." He growled. She drew in a sharp breath and held his icy glare. "Do as I say and you will be treated well. And I expect you to be in the dining hall at six o'clock sharp for supper every night. Do not ever be late." With this last command and a fling of his dark red cape, he stomped off into the long, dark hall, leaving Elizabeth alone with her thoughts.  
Elizabeth was annoyed with her captor's abrupt change of emotions, but was confused beyond reason as to why it – he would provide her with such a grand room. Pushing away these thoughts from her mind, she wondered what her father and sisters were doing at that moment. Were they missing her as she was missing them? She let out a small trembling sob, then curled herself up on the soft bed and promptly fell into a deep slumber.

Not long after leaving his guest and returning to his chambers, Fitzwilliam picked up his magic mirror and ordered it to show him the girl. An image of Elizabeth was conjured up quickly. He could tell that she was exhausted from her day's strenuous activities, for she was laying upon the blanket in her muddy green dress, fast asleep. Her face and beautiful features were illuminated by a silver beam of moonlight that peeked into her room through a thin gap in between the curtains. He watched her sleep from his mirror for a while; the steady rise and fall of her chest, the tiny unconscious flutters of her eyelashes. She looked so peaceful yet so vulnerable. Fitzwilliam fought the sudden urge to take her into his arms and whisper soft, sweet nothings to her like he used to do to Georgiana when she was still a child.

Fitzwilliam heaved a sigh, laid the mirror on his table and began pacing while meditating upon his guest's pair of very fine eyes. He could easily drown in those beautiful brown eyes of hers and he briefly wondered if she was an enchantress of some sort, but quickly dismissed the idea and chastised himself for being silly. He knew that he was already halfway from falling in love with the girl. In his half-dazed state, he had even shown her to Georgiana's old chambers! What on Earth did he think he was doing? He snorted – he obviously wasn't thinking at all just now.

In all his twenty-five years in court, Fitzwilliam had never felt any slight inkling of attraction to a lady. Indeed, there were always strings of courtiers, princesses and daughters of lords and nobles thrown to him by the Council who were always trying to make him choose a bride, but he had never paid the ladies any more attention than what was necessary and respectful. Yet he found himself thinking about his guest's soulful eyes that showed her spirited and passionate nature.

Fitzwilliam knew this attraction had to stop, that he had to stop thinking about her so often before this feeling blossomed into anything more than infatuation, or worse, love, for he knew all too well how a lady like her would never fall for a beast such as himself. And after all, he had but a little more than half a year left till the curse became permanent, till he stayed a beast forever. Four months were hardly enough to make anyone fall in love with an ugly beast.

He pulled at his mane and clawed at his fur, trying to peel off the skin that wasn't his, desperately wishing that this was all a dream, and that he would wake up and be back in his human form again the next day, just like the first few weeks after his transformation. He felt utterly wretched, helpless, hopeless and depressed for being trapped in a body that was not his own. Even after two years, he still could not come to terms with this curse. What an extremely unfair and cruel thing his life was! He let out a long, sorrowful howl then collapsed onto the torn rug on the floor.

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Poor Elizabeth? Poor Darcy? What do you think? Leave me a review!


	4. Chapter 3

Greetings my lovely readers, happy weekend! Here's chapter 3! And as always, thank you, Felicia.

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 **Chapter 3**  
 _Countdown: 4 months, 3 weeks and 3 days_

Elizabeth woke up feeling the most rested and content she had ever felt since moving into their little farm house, but her peace was immediately interrupted when her dream and events from the day before came rushing back into her mind. She sat on her comfortable bed, bewildered.  
She had dreamt of being welcomed into a splendid castle that gleamed in the sunlight, by a prince who literally fit the description of 'tall, dark and handsome.' He was a fine, tall man, with handsome features and a noble mien. His hair was a tint of dark brown and his eyes were a shade of the most brilliant blue she had ever seen. He had led her into a dining hall lit up by candlelight in which a long table full of extravagant food with silver and gold cutleries that gleamed. He had treated her like a princess, as if he was her servant. But as the dream came to an end, the prince had all but warned her not to 'judge a person by his physical appearance'.  
Elizabeth was perplexed to no end, but she tucked the dream away into a corner of her mind and dismissed its importance, believing that she was just too stressed out from the previous day's events.

As Elizabeth got out of bed, while dreading what this new day would bring her, she noticed a mannequin standing next to her wardrobe. (She had come to consider everything in the room hers, for why ever not? She _was_ going to be imprisoned – though that word sounded a bit too negative given the accommodation she was provided with – in this castle for the rest of her life. She might as well enjoy what luxury she was given and make good use of them.) The mannequin was donned with one of the most stunning gown she had ever laid her eyes upon. The dress was a dark purple, with a flowery fringe at the neck. The sash ribbon on its waist was held with a tiny silver pin. On the mannequin's head laid a silver beaded headband, with a matching necklace hanging on its neck. Captivated, Elizabeth immediately tried on the gown. It fit her flawlessly. It had a form fitting bodice that flared out from the waistline. The sleeves hung loosely around her elbows, and the hem of the dress touched the floor, making gentle swishing sounds whenever she moved.

Elizabeth chuckled in glee while she delicately fastened the lustrous necklace around her neck; it had been such a long time since she had last worn anything remotely costly she had almost forgotten the feeling of silk on skin! But her cheerful mood was quickly dampened when bewilderment hit her once again – why did the dress fit her so perfectly? Was it especially made for her? Why was it made for her? Who made it for her? Who had ordered it to be made, if anyone? Why was she – a prisoner – treated like an esteemed guest or the mistress of the castle? She groaned. Elizabeth never liked being kept in the dark. She wanted to know; she needed to find answers, if anything, just to satisfy her growing sense of curiosity. So she set out to explore the castle, to unravel all its deepest and darkest secrets. Whilst doing so, she made a mental note to herself to avoid the mysterious (and let us not forget, quite frightening) master of this castle at her very best.

Fitzwilliam had awoken not an hour earlier than his guest. The first thing he did upon waking was summoning an image of the girl out of his mirror.  
He had had a terrible night's sleep, for his dreams were constantly being intruded by the girl – he still dared not refer to her by her Christian name, for fear of the intimacy it suggested that was already too tempting. He had dreamt of her dancing with him in his ballroom wearing an exquisite golden-yellow ball gown that draped past her toes. Her thick, rich chestnut hair was pinned up into an elegant bun, and her face was tenderly framed by the few curly tendrils that had escaped. When he reached out to tuck a curl behind her ear, he noticed his hands were no longer paws but his human hands. She had smiled at him – a real, bright, blinding smile. She was beautiful. She was absolutely ravishing, and he felt his heart speed up, and he felt his whole body exploding. He leaned forward, took her into his arms and kissed her senseless. He also clearly remembered the passion (which matched his own) that she had returned his kiss with.

Diverting his attention to the mirror he was holding, he saw her running towards the door of the tall gates surrounding his castle in her deep purple gown. He immediately became enraged that she would dare try to defy his orders and had almost gone chasing after her, but she stopped just a few feet away from the gates and was bending down – trying to inspect something? Then it hit him. She was admiring his roses! The rose! That was what her father had picked from his garden as a gift for the girl! He looked into the mirror more closely, trying to determine what exactly she was doing. He saw her hand reaching out as if to pick the rose, and he instantly stiffened. _Like father like daughter_ , his head kept chanting, until he saw her soft hands tenderly caress the red rose instead.

Elizabeth had almost screamed with joy when she spotted a garden full of red, white and yellow roses the moment she stepped out of the castle doors. She ran towards a blooming crimson red rose that caught her attention and bent down to touch its fragile petals. She smiled, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the fragrance of the flowers that were surrounding her. _At least there is a garden full of beautiful roses here to keep me company_ , she thought wistfully and let out a small sigh. Jane would have loved to see this, for she loved flowers very much too. She shook her head, as if trying to shake off memories of her family that she knew she would never again see.

She lingered in the gardens for a while, enjoying the serenity being around her favourite flowers gave her. She had also found a small pond behind the rose garden. She hoped she would find something to occupy her time with. She would be willing to help with cleaning the castle once she familiarises herself with all the corridors, rooms and wings, if the Beast allows her, of course. She would have to ask him some time. She wondered if he would be willing to lend her some books too. Elizabeth would never mind staying outside in the garden among the roses reading every day.

Deciding it was about time for her midday meal, Elizabeth stood up from her comfortable spot on the soft green grass under the shade of a big, tall tree. She dusted her gown and started walked towards the castle doors. Glancing up at the enormous castle, she saw the dark shadow of the Beast standing by a window on the second floor watching her. Annoyance flashed across her face at the thought of being watched and having no privacy, but she looked away and continued her way back into the castle.

Managing to remember the directions to the kitchen, she finished her lunch and continued wandering around the castle while trying to memorise every turn of corner, door, room and corridor so that she won't get lost when finding her way back to the dining hall for supper with the Beast.

The castle had four floors, she discovered. It was divided into four wings and a main block, her room being near the end of the East Wing. The wings all seemed to be connected to each other one way or another – by a flight of hidden stairs, a long, dark corridor or a bridge.

Elizabeth spent at least a quarter of an hour or so in every room, trying to remember what each room looked like and their differences from others so as to distinguish them more easily. There were so many of them that she lost count after entering the twenty-third room! She even took the liberty to give each room a name, for example, Elizabeth named a room that was medium in size which had a dusty red carpet, a cold marble fireplace, and a pair of small windows that was framed by red curtains behind a writing desk – 'the Red Room'. She also came across a room which was so enormous and grand that Elizabeth would have considered it most intimidating, had it not had the soft touches of the velvet cornflower blue curtains and a painted pale cyan ceiling with glowing moons and stars. She named it 'Little Prince'. Her favourite unoccupied room was 'the Rose Room', a room which had cream-coloured wallpapers and a ceiling that was beautifully painted with pale pink and red roses that were carefully outlined with gold paint.

Elizabeth spent the rest of her day satisfying her curiosity and lost track of time. She was inspecting another new room when with a start, a clock chimed six. She gasped, gathered her dress and promptly took off, hurrying her way back to the dining hall. One thing Elizabeth wasn't curious enough to want to know or experience is the Beast's wrath.

Fitzwilliam was once again pacing. You must have noticed by now, dear readers, that he did so whenever he was not at peace, feeling agitated, annoyed or angry. It was near half six and he was feeling increasingly irritated with every passing minute she did not appear. He was thinking of going to search for her, when the double doors flew open right in front of him, and she burst in holding her dress and panting heavily. For a second, Fitzwilliam thought her bright brown eyes glimmered in the dim light and shone even brighter (if that was even possible), her cheeks flushed from the running, no doubt, and he was rendered speechless. He stood there staring at her like a fool until he caught the end of her monologue.

"–so sorry, sir!"

"Ex–excuse me?" he stuttered. Apparently, he had missed her little apology speech while standing there the whole time just glaring at her. Elizabeth huffed.

"I said," purposely dragging out the last syllable, "I'm sorry for being late."

Her impudence irked him. He did not even try to conceal the fury that had come racing back with full force after disappearing when he looked into those mesmerising brown eyes of hers. "This is only the first day and you already dare be late? Do you not know how to follow orders?"

Elizabeth gritted her teeth together tightly, so as to not let the haughty retort that was already on the tip of her tongue slip out, but slip out it did.  
"I do not _dare_ anything." She said bitingly. "Had you not been so occupied scrutinising me and finding faults in me, you would have heard my explanation." She gritted out through her teeth.

Fitzwilliam let out a small noise which sounded like something between a grunt and a growl, but decided to drop the subject and gestured for Elizabeth to sit down at the long dining table. After she did so, he walked to the other end of the table and sat down, unmoving and seeming to have no intention to do so. Elizabeth stared at him pointedly with furrowed brows, while he returned the gaze steadily.

"Are you not going to eat?" she asked exasperatedly, after what seemed like a century had passed.

"No."

Elizabeth waited for more, perhaps an explanation, or another unjustified scolding. She received neither. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in annoyance, then picked up the silver cutleries and started eating.

Looking at her perfectly arched brow while she watched him expectantly, Fitzwilliam had, in fact, for a second, thought he ought to give her a reason for not eating. But ultimately decided against it for he was unwilling to admit a fault of his to a lady whom he had not known for more than a day, a mere stranger, no matter how tempting the idea seemed to be.

So Elizabeth continued on with her meal while under his distinct and highly uncomfortable gaze. She quickly concluded that it was because he did not find her person satisfying, and thus was doing so only to find more faults in her. At this moment, she could almost hear Jane admonishing her, as always. "Lizzy! I'm sure he isn't as disagreeable as you say. You must be misunderstanding him." Oh, her dearest, sweetest Jane, she never found a fault in anyone. Elizabeth sighed wistfully. She knew it wouldn't do to think about her family now, since she'd never see them again.

That night, the castle's master and its guest both went to bed with thoughts of the other – Fitzwilliam's more pleasant, and Elizabeth's less so.

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Leave me some comments! :)


	5. Chapter 4

Hey folks, sorry for the delay. I was so busy yesterday that I forgot about posting my story!

Someone asked if this story was inspired by the 2014 French movie - La Belle et La Bête. Indeed it is! Everything about the movie is so beautiful that I just completely fell in love with it. I started writing this story not long before I watched the movie so the timing was all good. Also, thank you for all your continuous support and encouragement. I hope TTOAR won't disappoint you!

Anyway, I bring you chapter 4 :) Once again, thank you Felicia!

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 **Chapter 4**  
 _Countdown: 3 months, 3 weeks and 3 days_

Fitzwilliam shot up from bed drenched in sweat, with a heart pounding hard and fast in his chest that was ready to explode.

He had once again dreamt of Elizabeth, in all her beauty, grace, and elegance, dancing with him in the grand ballroom. But the second he leaned forward intending to kiss her, she vanished into thin air. He had immediately lunged forward, trying to retain whatever was left of her, but he was too late – she was already gone.

Deciding to take a turn in his garden before Elizabeth awoke, he shrugged on his cloak and left his room. It was just before the end of evening twilight when the air was still cool and the colours of the sky looked as unreal as an oil painting. He imagined what it would be like to walk with Elizabeth in his rose garden, to have her with him as he enjoyed the sunrise, to have her smile at him. He felt lonely and bereft of contentment. As he beheld the beautiful red roses growing in his garden, he forcefully broke one off its stem – the one that he had seen Elizabeth admire the other day – and promised himself that even though his chances were slim, he just _had_ to try his very best to somehow win Elizabeth's hand.

Elizabeth woke up a little after dusk. This day marked the end of her fourth week in this castle. In the last twenty so days, she had settled into a routine of some sorts where she would wake up with a dream still vividly replaying itself in her mind, then find a stunning new dress on the mannequin standing beside her closet, and after admiring it for a while, she would dress herself, make some simple breakfast, spend the morning in the rose garden, have lunch, make some new discoveries in each room, dine with the Beast, then return to her room for bed.

Today was no different. Elizabeth got out of her comfortable bed thinking about the striking pair of blue eyes that had been haunting her every night for the past weeks. In her vision the previous night, she was in the arms of the handsome young prince again, spinning around the dance floor of the grand ballroom. He was holding onto her waist softly but tightly, his deep blue eyes looking down at her as if he was staring straight into her soul. She couldn't recall what conversations they had, or if they had any at all this time. She couldn't help but feel that there was a deeper connection between the dreams she had been having since her first night in this castle and the castle's mysterious master. Was she in danger in this castle? Who was that handsome blue-eyed prince in her dream?

Elizabeth shook her head to clear it of the dream. She twirled around and inspected herself in front of a full-length mirror. The sapphire blue gown today was just as beautiful as all the others. The main body of the dress was decorated with golden threads in a soft, striking pattern which curled out from the clustered material beneath her breasts. A think golden band ran around the top of the dress, securing it just above her chest, and highlighting her milky, smooth skin. The sleeves started just off her shoulders and flowed into ruffles similar to the skirt of the gown. A golden ribbon, tied into a small bow, rimmed the edges of both her sleeves, and she had tied a length of it around her neck, leaving the two ends of the ribbon dangling on the back of her neck.

Elizabeth was never late to any suppers after her first time. After almost three weeks living in the castle, she had already familiarised herself with every dark corner, every deserted room, and every long-winded corridor that were within the boundary of her exploration. How she longed to see more! Elizabeth still wondered what secrets the West Wing kept that were waiting for her to discover every time she passed the spiral staircase that she knew led to the forbidden area. Once she even dared to walk halfway up the stairs, but quickly turned and fled when she heard the light screech of an opening door.

After spending a whole day in the gardens making flower crowns, Elizabeth readied herself to face the Beast at the dinner table.

Elizabeth had been enjoying her quiet supper when the Beast suddenly stood from his seat at the long table across from her and started pacing. His hands were clasped together tightly behind his back. Elizabeth could see that he was holding something, but could not make it out clearly, thus willing herself to ignore him, she continued drinking the delicious, warm soup. Then he slowly walked towards her and stopped near her chair. Curious, she arched an eyebrow at him, prompting him to speak.

"Elizabeth," he cleared his throat then awkwardly bent down on one knee and from behind his back, produced a single red rose, the action startling her into jumping up from her seat. "In these past three weeks, I have come to… to admire you, greatly. Please do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage. I offer you this castle, all the treasures in it, the thousands of roses in the garden. I will be your most devoted servant and you will want for nothing."

Elizabeth gulped. "You are in earnest?"

He nodded.

"But… I… How could I..?" she choked out as she stared at him, wide-eyed.

"I'll give you a few days' time to think about it," he stated and got up from his kneeling position. He started heading towards the door, but then paused and stared at the rose he was still holding.

"'Tis for you." He whispered, as the rose fluttered onto the ground, and then with a flick of his burgundy-red cape, he was gone.

Still stunned into silence, Elizabeth retired to her room not long after that, having lost all her appetite. She felt it absurd to marry her captor especially given that she had always believed she would only marry for the deepest love. Coming to a conclusion that she would refuse his proposal in the kindest and softest way possible so as to not suffer any of his wraths after debating with herself the advantages and disadvantaged of such a match, she once again fell into a deep sleep plagued with dreams of her prince.

That night, Elizabeth's blue-eyed prince came to her again in her dreams. He looked sad and forlorn, and though Elizabeth tried to comfort him again and again, and kept on asking him what she could do to help him, he would only answer her questions and pleadings with "you will never love me," which left her feeling very helpless and confused.

The next day, she woke up feeling more adventurous and daring, thus vowed to herself to unveil the secret of the West Wing by supper.

Elizabeth had finally reached the long and dark hallway that she knew led to the West Wing after managing to silently creep up the stairs and slowly opening the enormous double doors without being caught. Upon entering one of the largest rooms she had yet to come across in the castle, she immediately spotted a huge framed painting hanging across the room. With the sunlight shining through both of the glass windows next to the painting, she couldn't make out clearly what it was. Walking further into the room to investigate the large painting, she noticed that, like all the other rooms, everything in this room was also covered in dust and spider webs. But unlike the others, she saw pieces of shattered glass and ceramics all over the floor. There were scratch marks on the walls and tables, and feathers and shreds of cotton (probably from the torn pillows and cushions) scattered everywhere in the room.

Taking in a deep breath to gather her courage, she continued towards the painting. When she could finally see the subject matter of the painting clearly, Elizabeth barely managed to stifle a gasp. She suddenly felt light-headed and dazed. She was standing face to face with the blue-eyed prince from her dreams! Although the subject in the portrait looked younger than he seemed when he appeared in her dreams, the resemblance was unmistakable. She could see that he had the same dark hair and noble, handsome features as her prince, albeit the painting being scratched and torn.

Elizabeth knew not how long she stood staring at the painting when started at hearing a loud, unmistakable slurping sound coming from behind a door on her left. Shaking her head to clear it from its befuddled state, she crept towards the door that was slightly ajar and was met with the most horrifying sight. Her eyes widened as she let out a small yelp then immediately covered her mouth in alarm and was turning to flee from the room when she heard the Beast growl.

"Stop right there!" Fitzwilliam roared when he espied the thing (or in this case, the person) that had interrupted his meal.

 _Elizabeth_.

He was mortified to have been caught in this manner – eating a freshly caught deer in such a barbaric and animal way by _her_ , but then his anger quickly surpassed any embarrassment or humiliation he had felt. He had expressly ordered her not to venture into this part of the castle!

Leaving his meal laying on the floor, he leaped towards her and violently tore a sleeve off her dress as he snarled into her face in a deep, dangerous voice, "Now that you've seen who and what I truly am, are you afraid of me yet?"

Refusing to be intimidated by or to cower to the terrifying creature before her, Elizabeth lifted her chin up in feigned bravery and clenched her fists to stop them from trembling.

"I am not afraid of you! You should know that my courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me. I know who you are and what you are. You are an arrogant, foul-tempered, cruel and cold-hearted murderer! You killed the handsome prince of this castle yet you cannot even take care of it yourself! How can you presume that your riches could ever tempt me into marrying such a horrifying creature as you? You are just the monster that you look like!"

He recoiled from her, as if slapped. Her words hit too close to home. But she caught her breath and quickly continued, paying his reactions no attention.

"You punish my father for picking a flower from your garden then, lock me up in this horrible place. You can give me all the treasures, gold, and fineries of this world and I still would never marry you. You are the last man whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry! And I do not care about my promise of staying in this castle with you. I refuse to be the prisoner of a cold-blooded murderer!"

He gnarled. "Leave, then! Go! Take anything and everything you want and leave!"

Fitzwilliam regretted his command the second the words left his mouth, but he was too late, for Elizabeth had already turned and fled from the room.

He turned his back towards the door in which he just saw his Elizabeth leave through and crumpled into a messy heap on the floor as unbidden tears flowed through his eyes, falling onto the torn carpet beneath his feet.

He had lost his only chance to salvation. He had lost the woman he was growing to love.

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Hang in there, the next chapter will be here soon!


	6. Chapter 5

Angst alert is sill up from the previous chapter! Don't worry though, everything will be resolved the next chapter, or not..?

Here's a very short chap just to keep you wondering and dreading and hoping...

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 **Chapter 5**  
 _Countdown: 3 months and 2 days_

Elizabeth hurriedly ran back to her room without a backward glance at the Beast. She grabbed the dark grey cloak she wore on her journey to the castle and then clumsily scrambled down the stairs and into the main hall, twisting her ankle slightly during the process. Ignoring the pain in her right leg, she pushed open the heavy doors that led to her freedom and a gush of cuttingly-cold air immediately assaulted her face. Not caring one wit that she was not attired warmly enough for such weather, Elizabeth stepped out of the building, pushed open the rusty castle gates and sprinted into the woods, the only coherent thought in her mind was to get home as quickly as possible.

The sky above her blackened as the wind picked up speed. The long, crooked branches of trees around her swayed in the strengthening gust as the heavens cracked open and torrential rain poured down upon her petite frame. Elizabeth hunched her back and tried to navigate her way through the dark and wet forest.

Meanwhile, sorrow slowly gave way to anger, then mortification, and then self-deprecation and heart-break for Fitzwilliam, as he remain crouched into a vulnerable fur-ball on the floor, when all of a sudden, a loud roar of thunder rattled his window. Whipping his head towards the sound, he watched dark clouds hover over his land as heavy splashes of raindrops hit the glass. It then occurred to him that nobody except the sky understood how he was feeling right at that moment. A flash of lightning which brought along another clash of thunder brought Fitzwilliam out of his trance of self-pity. As he came to his senses, it suddenly hit him that _she_ , _his_ Elizabeth, might be in danger. He scrambled up and got hold of his magic mirror from his bedroom.

"Show me the girl!" He commanded and was promptly presented with the vision of a tiny black figure wading her way through the dark woods as sharp, thorny branches continued to scrape at her face, her arms and her dress. He could see that her hair was a mess and her cloak and dress were torn. Looking more closely, he noticed cuts and grazes marring her beautiful face as well. Incensed, Fitzwilliam rushed out of his castle, with the magic mirror in his hand, showing him the way towards Elizabeth.

He sped through the forest like a lightning bolt, fast, furious, and full of purpose. Had Fitzwilliam had one second more to ponder upon his actions, he would have realised that the direction he was heading towards was the frozen lake that stood between the borders of the forest and a neighbouring kingdom. But he had not, and thus could not have foreseen the following events that would turn his life around.

Elizabeth sensed more than heard that she was being pursued as she tried to bravely find her way out of this maze of a forest. The pouring rain persisted, so did the thunder and lightning. She had no doubt the hem of her dress was deeply covered with mud and the sleeves of her beautiful gown were ripped into shreds. She allowed her mind to drift to thoughts of her long departed mother and the family she so missed, while her weary legs continued to carry her across the big piece of land. The momentary loss of attention caused her to trip and fall, further tearing her dress apart, the sharp stones protruding from the muddy floor scraped her palms and knees. Her already twisted ankle now hot and swollen hurt. Some tresses of her thick brown hair were plastered onto her face by the rain. The tears, which she had so expertly locked up, were now flowing freely down her face as she forced her body to pick itself up. She gathered her torn and tattered dress and continued her directionless journey towards freedom.

She heard his heavy footsteps and his panting breaths, which sounded more like angry growls to her ears, growing louder and louder behind her. She was oh so very tired; her legs were on the verge of giving in. At that very moment, Elizabeth did what might be the stupidest thing she had ever done in her entire life. She glanced back. She felt everything around her swirl, as she felt herself being pulled downwards, drowning deeper and deeper, as her skin grew colder and colder, and her dress became heavier and heavier, and – and wet? And then…darkness.

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I know you love me...Till next Tuesday, folks! And in the mean time, please do keep me in touch with all your ideas and suppositions.


	7. Chapter 6

I'm so terribly sorry for another delay! (Thanks, anon, for reminding me. I'm a terrible poster - poster? author? updater? - !) I think I just realised that Tuesdays are always the busiest. Anyway, without further ado, I present to you chapter 6!  
As always, thanks Felicia! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 6**  
 _Countdown: 2 months, 3 weeks and 6 days_

As Elizabeth slowly came to, she felt her head pounding and her eyelids too heavy to be opened. For some reason, she was cold, and wondered why as her room in the Beast's castle had always been so warm and welcoming. Then it hit her like lightning – the Beast. Her escape! _And what an escape it was_ , she thought bitterly.

She must have groaned out loud at the thought, because she immediately heard _his_ voice asking after her. The sound was muffled and all too loud. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut even tighter into a frown, which just brought her already throbbing head more pain. Her whole body was aching too, probably from the running and the branches that tore at her gown, and the fall.

What happened? Why was _he_ here with her? Where was she? Why was her head feeling like imploding any second? She tried to move her fingers and found them a bit stiff, but otherwise felt fine. Then she proceeded to force her eyes open. The light that flooded into her sight almost blinded her for a moment.

"T- Too bright," she croaked out, her voice broken and parched as she once again squeezed her eyes together.

She heard a soft "I apologise" as the curtains were drawn, and then she dared to try opening her eyes again.

When Fitzwilliam returned to Elizabeth's side, he found her brown eyes, which were as bright and beautiful as ever, staring at him intently. He wondered what she was thinking. He had already been berating himself for the whole seventy-two hours he was at her side, watching over her vulnerable, unconscious form. Her usually radiant and cheerful face had lost its colour, probably from the cold and the shock, and her skin had turned pale, and her lips – blue, as well.

He had not been aware that they were both, quite literally, walking on thin ice. He had pounced onto her when they were but a few feet apart, but the second he did, the ice below her cracked and she fell through the hole, disappearing from his grasp – just like in his dream, he bemoaned bitterly. His heart had actually stopped beating for a minute then, and he had not felt as depressed and helpless since his mother's death. His mother…she would definitely not be proud of the man (not that he was a man anymore; he behaved and acted like the beast that he was) he had grown up to be, he thought ruefully.

He had not been out hunting and had not eaten since her escapade three days ago. Not that he wanted to anymore. Every time he thought about hunting and eating raw meat, _her_ disgusted face and disdainful eyes appeared in his mind's eye, making him feel sick and weary.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft and somewhat soothing to Elizabeth's ears.

"I should think you shan't be losing your little entertainment so soon," she said in reply. She couldn't really help that her words were dripping with sarcasm.

At least she hadn't lost her impertinence, he grunted. "How are you, really?"

"Fine."

He sighed inwardly. "Will you let me clean your wounds?" He asked, though he had already cleaned those that were not covered by fabric for fear of any infections.

Elizabeth started at the thought of the Beast being so near to her, and touching her, but did not see any other option since her dearest Jane was not with her, so she reluctantly nodded. Inwardly, she wondered why he was offering to care for her when she had just attempted to escaped from him.

Fitzwilliam had already seen to the scrapes and scratches on her face while she was sleeping, so he motioned for her to pull off her already torn sleeves. As he raised a warmly soaked cloth to her left arm, he noticed three long gashes, and was immediately reminded of his outburst in his room.

"I – I'm sorry. Did I cause this?" he breathed out in horror.

A little stunned at his impassioned voice and apology, she blinked a few times, then shook her head lightly and replied, "I don't think so. I don't remember feeling any pain while I was…" she paused for a while, trying to look for the right word, "Well, packing."

Her halting reply gave him some sense of relief, but it didn't help alleviate all the guilt and anguish he felt.

The tenderness in which he tended to her had surprised Elizabeth at first. She watched him discreetly under her lashes the whole time as he intently cared for every little bruise, scratch, scrape or gash he found. When he finally finished cleaning most of the injuries, Elizabeth was shocked, to say the least, to find that the cuts and bruises no longer felt painful, and that the wounds have already healed themselves.

"How..?" she whispered, drawing in a deep breath of air.

"The water in the pond behind the garden has some…" here, he paused, trying to find the right words, "magical healing abilities." He answered her vaguely, hoping that she will not prod for more answers that he didn't want and wasn't ready to give. She didn't. Fitzwilliam let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, after a moment of silence.

"Some drinking water will do." He was halfway from the door when she spoke again, this time rather hesitantly. "And…perhaps…a book, if you have any?"

With a quick nod, he went to fetch what she asked for.

As she watched his retreating form, Elizabeth congratulated herself on finally succeeding in borrowing a book from him. At least there will be something to occupy her time with this time, she thought mournfully. She wondered if her family missed her as much as she missed them. Oh, how she longed to go home, to see her father and sisters, to be free!

Fitzwilliam was quickly dismissed, after returning to her room with a glass of water, some fruits and two carefully chosen books. He tried his best to ignore the bereft feeling he was left with as he exited her chambers and went back to the West Wing, where he paced all day while watching her through his magic mirror.

Elizabeth spent her day reading in bed and recuperating. What she would give to have Jane by her side taking care of her! Her eyes welled up with tears and she quickly wiped them away with her sleeves. She wondered how the Beast managed to change her into the comfortable nightgown she was in, but chose not to dwell on it. She also wanted to know what exactly had happened to her. She remembered feeling being chased after by him, and she remembered falling, falling, falling…

Fitzwilliam watched as Elizabeth fell into deep slumber. He had noticed earlier, that she had already finished the two books he picked for her, and had quickly gone back into his library to pick out a few more books. Now that she was asleep, he silently crept into her room and placed four books on her bedside table with a jug of water and some fresh fruits and took away the two she had finished.

They passed the long days in a similar manner, he asking after her and taking care of her needs, she resting and reading. The two slowly developed a tentative bond of friendship as they discussed books, philosophical ideas, and anything that came into their minds that were not in the least bit too intimate.

Days moulded into weeks as Elizabeth slowly recovered, and with it, her lively spirits returned, and she was allowed out into the rose garden once again.

One day, while Elizabeth was taking her supper, Fitzwilliam suddenly stood up from his seat across the table. She felt her heart quicken as she thought of his proposal and silently prayed that he was not about to repeat the act again. But then he announced that there was something he wished to show her and Elizabeth let out a breath of relief.

As Elizabeth finished her meal, he softly tugged her off her chair with a hand, and blindfolded her with a piece of black cloth. With a hesitant but gentle hand on the small of her back and another encasing her smaller one in his own, he led her down some long corridors and flights of stairs. He strode quickly and swiftly through corridors, pulling her with him like an excited little child, till they came to an abrupt stop.

She was so hyper-aware of his nearness and presence that it was almost unnerving.

"Are you ready?" he whispered into her left ear when they stopped. She nodded, and he took off the black cloth covering her eyes.

A resounding gasp was heard, as Elizabeth opened her eyes to the most spectacular sights she had ever set her eyes upon.

"Do you…like it..?"

Elizabeth, who was momentarily rendered speechless by the splendid and grand sight in front of her, could only vigorously nod her head in reply.

"This is for you; consider it some sort of gift of repentance. I…I'm sorry I cannot give you anything better," he said.

"This…this is for _me_?! All of _this_?!" she exclaimed, gesturing to everything around her, while her sparkling brown eyes were opened wide as she turned to look at him. He nodded as his feet shifted in embarrassment and shyness. Had he been in his human form, his face would have been blushing red.

Elizabeth squealed in delight and ran into his sturdy form with arms thrown open and then embraced him tightly. Completely shocked, Fitzwilliam stood stock-still, rooted to the spot, while a fresh, feminine, and distinctly _Elizabeth_ scent flooded his senses. Just as Fitzwilliam finally relaxed a bit and was starting to return the impromptu display of affection, Elizabeth stiffened, suddenly realising what she had just done. She then quickly let go of him and took a step backwards, her cheeks flushed with a most becoming shade of pink as she stared abashedly at the marble floor, while she clasped her hands together in the front of her gown, fiddling her fingers.

Fitzwilliam chose to tuck away the precious memory, feeling, and scent to the back of his mind for further examination at a later time. Clearing his throat lightly, he ushered her into the great hall that was filled with shelf after shelf of neatly organised collections of books.

She briefly wondered why she had never come across this beautiful library while she was exploring the castle. As if reading her mind, the Beast spoke from behind her, "You would not have seen this room as the north, east and south entrances are all locked."

"Why?" she immediately queried, but then quickly retrieved her words in fear of angering him.

"It's fine," he said, waving off her concerns dismissively, and Elizabeth noticed a slight quirk on the left corner of his lips. It made the sharp teeth that were sticking out of his mouth look a lot less terrifying. He should really smile more, she concluded.

She did not realised that she had voiced her musings aloud until he let out a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle that startled Elizabeth out of her thoughts. He then assured her that he will try, but asked her to be patient with him.

Fitzwilliam shuffled on his feet nervously before answering her again, "When I was a young lad, I loved reading and hated being disturbed when I was immersed in books. I always threw a fit whenever it happened, so my father and mother decided to lock all the other doors to the library, apart from the door nearest to my room where only my parents and I, and occasionally the maids, had access to. They have never been unlocked since."

Elizabeth gave him at wide, lopsided grin as he finished his explanation. Truth to be told, she found it very hard to picture the Beast as a happy, energetic youngling. Perhaps his teeth weren't as sharp then? Did he have less fur? Were his horns shorter – merely two stubs? Elizabeth tucked these thoughts to the back of her mind for further examination later, and proceeded to examine the beautifully bound books.

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Comments and criticisms?


	8. Chapter 7

Hello dearest readers, it's Saturday! And here's the Liz and Fitz interaction you've all been waiting for. I hope it's to your satisfaction. As always, thanks Felicia :)

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 **Chapter 7**  
 _Countdown: 1 month and 3 days_

A month passed with relative ease for both Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth. Their friendship blossomed, much like the red roses out in the garden which grew more beautiful as spring approached. They spent their mornings separately, Elizabeth in her rose garden with a book or at the piano (Fitzwilliam had moved an elegant white piano to the room adjacent to hers once he learnt of her accomplishments in music), and Fitzwilliam in his own room. They would then go to the library and read together or talk and laugh with each other after lunch, then have dinner together, though Fitzwilliam still never ate with Elizabeth. Their peaceful and domestic routine gave Elizabeth much comfort. She started entertaining the thought that staying in this castle with the Beast for the rest of her life did not seem as dreary and hopeless as it had at first.

Neither of them dared to speak about their argument and her escape, nor did they ever bring into their conversations their unanticipated yet electrifying embrace in the library, though the latter was etched most vividly in both of their minds, and was pondered upon, reimagined or expanded in day dreams and dreams at night. They were also both acutely aware of their developing feelings for the other.

The handsome blue-eyed prince continued to appear in Elizabeth dreams every night, sometimes he would be repeating to her the same warning to 'not judge a person by his physical appearance', and other times he would be doing various things to please her. The dreams always left Elizabeth feeling happy and content the next morning when she woke up.

Once, she had dreamt of being married to the prince and being a mother to two beautiful children. They had been on a family picnic on a small hill near their enchanting castle. A lone, stout tree stood at the centre of the hill top, where a wooden swing had been secure on one of its branches. She had been lounging under the shade with a sleeping baby girl tucked securely in the nook of her arm, while her prince was pushing their little boy on the swing. Elizabeth had woken up from that dream with a feeling of inexplicable wistfulness.

Fitzwilliam spent his time alone in his room watching Elizabeth from his magic mirror.

Today found the twosome sitting together on a cosy red settee reading a book about the Arthurian legends of Lancelot and Guinevere. They had been debating whether or not the doomed lovers deserved the punishments they got, or if they were altogether too lenient.

Elizabeth was of the opinion that they should have been allowed to love each other, though she admitted that Guinevere's infidelity was immoral and reprehensible. Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, thought the story reminded him too much of his sister's debacle and thus held the opinion that the two deserved much more severe punishments. Had Guinevere, after all, not betrayed a most noble, loving and righteous King, who was also her husband?

Fitzwilliam could almost imagine the anguish feeling of despair and lost King Arthur must have felt.

As their debate came to a natural pause, Fitzwilliam mustered up his courage and asked Elizabeth a question he had wanted to but had been too shy to ask for quite a while.

"Will you play for me after we finish reading _Le Morte Darthur_?"

"Play?" she asked, confused.

"Yes. I'm referring to the pianoforte, of course."

"Of course." She echoed his words again.

"I've watched you play, from afar, I mean, but I've never seen or heard you play in person." Fitzwilliam silently berated himself for almost letting slip of his magic mirror. Knowing her, she would be furious with him, and though he had to admit that this slip of a girl that was Elizabeth looked absolutely breath-taking when she was enraged – he remembered how those golden sparks in her dark brown eyes had flashed at him when she was yelling at him – he definitely did not want to incite her ire that particular day.

She considered it for a while, then replied with an impish grin, "Well, that can be easily amended, I suppose."

They settled themselves in the room where the little white piano sat, Elizabeth at the piano and Fitzwilliam standing beside it where he was supplied with the best angle to admire her figure and her playing. She chose a French piece which started off as a nostalgic and melancholy song but ended in a serene and rather cheerful note. Her slim fingers danced upon the black and white keys with ease and proficiency, as her body, mind and soul, so immersed in the music, became one with it.

It had been such a long time since there was music in the halls of his grand manor that her playing evoked the strongest of emotions from deep within his being.

"You play well," he softly complimented once the song finished. Those three words were scarcely adequate to express what he was truly feeling. In truth, he was extremely touched by the emotions she had poured into that one piece of music that he could hardly find words to describe how he was feeling at that moment.

"Mary plays better. She is a year younger than me, and is the most musically inclined and talented one amongst us five. She spends most, if not all, of her past-times on the pianoforte," she smiled up at him.

"My sister Georgiana did too," he said after a small pause. Elizabeth held her breath. This was the first time he had ever voluntarily spoken of or made reference to his family. "She used to sit at the piano and practice for hours and hours nonstop. And occasionally, I would sit by her and just watch and listen to her play for hours, when I can afford time away from work. That was before she became Queen, of course, and before she got married and moved away from Pemberley."

The obvious affection for his sister in his voice stirred Elizabeth. She had never consciously thought that the Beast standing in front of her was once a man, and could have once had a family he loved and who loved him in return. She felt a small sentiment of warmth and sympathy for him. Her small hand found one of his and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze and Fitzwilliam was thus jolted out of his thoughts.

He smiled down at her, and Elizabeth was once again struck by how different – a good different – his normally frightening appearance became when he did that.

"Tell me more about your family," she urged, hoping that he wouldn't retreat into his reticent shell.

He shook his head, refusing to disclosing his past or to open up any old wounds.

"Perhaps someday," he said, looking away from her. He was not ready to dredge up his horrible history yet, not when their relationship was still at a tentative beginning. He did not really want to speak of it either; he had never spoken of _that day_ to anyone apart from Georgiana. Even thinking about it made his head and heart ache.

She inwardly sighed. _Someday. Someday, I will discover the mystery that is you and the castle._

After a few moments of silence, both lost in thoughts, Fitzwilliam decided to take his leave of her, and told her they would meet again for supper. As her hand slipped out his large paw, she felt something akin to loss brew in the pit of her stomach.

Just as he was about to exit the room, he heard her voice calling out to him.

"Will you tell me your name, at least?" When she received no reply, she continued hesitantly, "Are we not friends yet?"

Fitzwilliam paused at the doorway and felt his heart flutter with hope at her use of the word 'friends', but he quickly squashed it. He knew how dangerous hope can be. Had he not already lived more than three years of his life without it? And after all, how can a lady like her ever fall for a monster like him? Wasn't that what she had called him? He couldn't blame her for it though; he had to admit that he did treat her rather abominably. And didn't she tell him he was the 'last man whom she could ever be prevailed upon to marry'? He held back a bitter laugh that threatened to spew out of his mouth. He had almost got down on one knee again and proposed to her when she finished the piece. It had felt so natural – them sitting together reading, him standing next to her while she played the piano; her hand fitting so snugly in his larger one.

"You can just call me the Beast," he growled lowly. Then in a blink of an eye, Elizabeth was left alone in the room feeling completely lost.

She had no idea what had just transpired between them. _One step forward ten steps back_ , she thought woefully. She had been enjoying the afternoon with him, until the moment she couldn't hold back her curiosity and asked about his family.

That night, Elizabeth sat at one end of the long dining table hoping and wishing for the Beast to come, but after an hour of idle waiting with diminishing hopes, she realised that he wouldn't be making an appearance. She quickly took her meal then returned to her chambers in dejected spirits.

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Only 1 month left! Think our darling boy is going to make it? Tell me what you think!


	9. Chapter 8

Greetings! It's once again Tuesday thus I present to you with chapter 8. The angst in this chapter doesn't rival chapters 4 and 5, so I don't think a severe angst alert should be necessary, but still, you've been forewarned. Beta credits to Felicia.

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 **Chapter 8**  
 _Countdown: 8 days_

She was spinning out of his arms again. How he wished this spinning was not part of the dance steps. How he wished to just hold her in his arms and sway gently to the music forever. He gazed at her admiringly as she twirled. Her brown hair and rose-pink gown fanned out, her eyes closed as she threw her head back in a carefree laugh.

She elegantly spun back into his arms, and he once again drank in her person like a starving man, completely hypnotised by her. Her brown curls were let down this time, its length almost reaching her slim waist. On her head sat a delicate crown made of tiny pink and red roses and rose buds. She was in a flawlessly fitting gown which complimented her feminine figure. It was of the same shade as her luscious lips which were smiling gently at him. He wondered how it would feel to kiss those pair of warm and inviting lips. He started inhaling her sweet, fresh scent, but all too soon, she was gone from him again. Yet this time, while twirling out of his reach, her beautiful smile transformed into a look of absolute contempt and disdain. Her vision then slowly faded and a most familiar and haunting maniacal laughter resounded in the air.

As Fitzwilliam woke with a start, the cold and cruel laughter of the witch still echoed mockingly in his ears and room. He was sitting at his desk; an empty glass was knocked over sideways on the wooden table. He had not wanted to sleep that night, as, since a week ago, his nights had been continuously invaded by dreams of an ethereal Elizabeth just out of his reach then disappearing before his eyes. He had been trying to keep himself awake with some liquor and a book. It obviously had not worked. He sighed hopelessly as memories from the previous day assaulted his worn out brain.

In a room at the opposite end of the castle, Elizabeth blinked open her eyes while trying her best to recall her dream from the previous night. Her prince had visited her, yet again, with a broken heart. Wishing beyond wish to help cease his pain, but unable to even find out the slightest bit of information as to the subject that was bothering him, Elizabeth, feeling slightly desperate and irritated, rose from bed and dressed herself in a new violet gown.

She and the Beast (as he still had not told her his name, and she had not been so brave – or stupid – enough to ask for it again) had managed to spend two weeks or so in each other's company without much dramas.

Three days after the Beast's sudden outburst in the music room and not spying a glimpse of him at all, he had walked into the library one sunny afternoon and quietly requested to join her. Elizabeth, though slightly sceptical, welcomed his company, reasoning with him that this castle was his, after all, and he should not have to ask her for permission to use his own library. The tension between the two had immediately been all but forgotten when the Beast flashed Elizabeth a shy, quirky smile, then proceeded to take the seat next to her on the settee. They continued their reading sessions and Elizabeth still tried to tease him to make him smile more, but they were both constantly aware of the large cloud that hung over them, limiting their choices of topics of conversations.

A week ago today, Elizabeth had been enjoying her meal in quietude, when after a while, her companion decided to break the silence.

Elizabeth feared that her pounding heart would leap out of her ribcage the moment the Beast once again bent down on one knee awkwardly and said in a most serious and solemn tone, "Elizabeth, I have come to admire you greatly these past months. You have brought a joy and light into my life that I had once thought I would never again experience and have since lost all hope for. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Elizabeth had, by then, slowly stood up from her seat in alarm, with one hand hovering over the left side of her chest, trying, in vain, to calm her racing heart. She knew that she would be staying in the castle with the Beast for the rest of her life whether or not she married him, but for some reason, she found the thought of being permanently tied to him and to this place slightly daunting. She had felt that by accepting his proposal, she would be betraying the prince in her dreams. Yet on the other hand, Elizabeth had not wanted to break the tenuous friendship she had only recently formed with the Beast by hurting him. So she had tried her best to gently talk him out of the absurd idea.

"But you don't love me!"

"I do!" he had exclaimed with such fervour that, Elizabeth suspected, thoroughly shocked even himself, if the stunned expression on his face was any indication. But he quickly recovered and continued his proclamation. "I do! I've grown to love you these past months. You've humbled me; you have become my dearest friend and companion. You've given me hope and joy that I thought I would never again feel. I did not want you to be frightened away by my words, but dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I do so most ardently love you!"

 _How do I refuse him? How does one refuse a beast – or a man – whom you do not even know the name of? Yet who claims to love you 'ardently'?_

"But…but I don't…" she had stuttered in reply. "You're only my friend. We're…we're merely friends…" She then watched his face fall as disappointment overrode his stern yet hopeful exterior, and stumbled backwards a few steps, a paw clutching at his left chest as if her words had driven a sharp sword into his heart. His face crumpled in pain as he looked away from her.

"Will you give me some time to think this through?" She pled, "Matrimony is such a big step for me, and I…I just need some time…please?"

"How long do you need?" His words a mere whisper.

"Can I…can I have seven days?"

He nodded, grief-stricken and unable to speak. Then after a pause where Elizabeth had watched him collect his emotions and once again don his mask of cold indifference, he gave her another quick nod goodbye, strode towards the door and then disappeared into darkness.

Today, the Beast would be asking her for an answer. Elizabeth had already thought through the limited options she had and had come to a conclusion. She would ready herself to face the Beast's wrath, if need be. Since that day, he had not appeared at any of their usual meetings in the library, and had only sat through supper with her in eerie silence. Elizabeth only wished that whatever happened tonight would not further harm their, in her opinion, still-salvageable friendship.

When Elizabeth entered the dining hall at six o'clock sharp with apprehension clearly written in every feature of her face, Fitzwilliam had already been sitting at his end of the long table for a quarter of an hour. Her muffled footsteps drew his attention and his head shot up. He got out of his chair and made a stiff bow, so she curtsied in return.

"I have come–"

"Have you decided–" they started at the same time. The right side of his lips curled up ever so slightly, betraying him and the sombre mood. Fitzwilliam gestured for his guest to speak first.

"I have come to a decision," she said, her voice small but steady. "I shall marry you if you allow me to spend one week with my family."

He started at her words, but realising that he had no choice in the matter if he really wanted her as his life companion, he nodded his acquiesce. "A week. No more." He said cheerlessly, then immediately sought to change the topic. "Will you tell me about your family?"

Surprised at his easy acceptance, Elizabeth's heart lifted and immediately proceeded to tell him all about her family. She told him of their long gone mother, of her beloved father and her dearest sisters. She spoke of how they had to move homes because of her father's ships' accident at sea and how her two youngest sisters had since become extremely tiring and unhelpful for they never stopped whining and complaining.

The couple spent double the time in the dining hall that day, and by the time Elizabeth had finished her meal, Fitzwilliam knew almost every detail of Elizabeth's family, her childhood and her life.

"When do you plan to set off?" Fitzwilliam asked after a while.

"Oh, I haven't really thought that through," Elizabeth replied, accompanied by a nervous giggle. Just the thought of going home – back to her father and to her sisters – made her heart soar in excitement. She missed them so much! "I could leave tomorrow, if you don't mind?"

He acceded to her suggestion. "Will you allow me a dance?" He asked, extending an arm towards her.

"Now?" Fitzwilliam nodded again – it seemed like nodding was all he could do now, for his heart was so very heavy with her impending departure and his imminent doom of being forever trapped in this ghastly form of a beast.

"But we have no music!" Elizabeth protested.

"It doesn't matter. We don't need any," he said gruffly. Elizabeth eyed him curiously, but opted not to comment on his foul mood. She gently laid her gloved hand in his paw and was lead into a grand ballroom.

As they glided across the dancefloor gracefully without music, Fitzwilliam was only aware of the feel of Elizabeth's slim waist under his paw and how perfect her small frame fit against his larger one, and Elizabeth was only mindful of how his gentle yet firm touch made energy and warmth course through her body. She also noticed how safe and protected she felt in his strong arms. _Perhaps being married to him would not be so bad after all_ , she mused silently.

"You promise to come back, don't you?" he whispered into her ear as she dreamily laid her head against his broad, hard chest. Elizabeth nodded. Her sweet, fresh scent filled Fitzwilliam's nostrils as he inhaled a sharp breath. He wished so badly to believe her – that she would come back to him, and into his arms, willingly, but he knew better. He knew in his heart. He just _knew_ , that once Elizabeth walked out of his castle after the night's sleep, she would not be coming back. He knew that life was never easy or remotely pleasant, for his life had been nothing but cruel and unfair. _Until Elizabeth came into it_ , his heart whispered traitorously. His mind immediately banished the thought. Hope was a bittersweet thing, and to hope in essence meant blinding oneself to the harsh truth of reality.

He briefly wondered if he had made the wrong decision by asking her to dance, but the temptation of making his haunting dreams a reality was too great. Deciding to savour this sweet moment, he focused on his alluring dancing partner. He would dance with her for his first and last time, watch her sleep for one more night, and hear her voice for one last time. He would be a good man, not the beast he had unknowingly, slowly turned into, and let her go, for she deserved better. Elizabeth deserved more than a beast as her husband. He doubted he would be able to give her a normal life – a warm, loving family with beautiful, bright children that every woman so craves.

He would love her forever from afar till the end of his days, when he would finally be able to shed his fur coat and return into human form before his soul left the Earth.

Elizabeth deserved better, and tomorrow, he would let her go.

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Time flies; only 8 days left! Do you think Elizabeth will return to him? Leave me a review!


	10. Chapter 9

Yay it's once again Saturday! I just moved into my new uni and new dorm 3 days ago and am feeling so nervous and lonely and just a tiny bit homesick D: I don't know how I imagined my uni life would be like but it definitely wasn't this. Anyway, I'm gonna stop whining and let you all enjoy this chapter. As always, beta credits to Felicia.

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 **Chapter 9**  
 _Countdown: 7 days_

The Beast had given her a mirror that she now held in her hand before she left the castle in the morning. He had said that it was a 'magic mirror', and had taught her how to use it. His last words when he saw her off were deeply etched in her mind.

"Promise me you'll come back, Elizabeth, promise me!" He had pled in an anguished whisper. She had merely nodded her ascent as she stared into his very familiar-looking deep blue eyes.

"One week, no more!" He had cried, pulling her into his arms into an emotional embrace. She nodded again, wide-eyed.

"Come back to me…" His last words were no more than a heart-felt prayer, spoken so softly and with so much grief and heartache that Elizabeth couldn't bear to be near him for one more second, for fear that her heart might break for him and thus be persuaded to stay. She had quickly nodded again, before scrambling out of his arms and into a splendid carriage that he had made ready for her.

Fitzwilliam had penned a letter to his sister, Georgiana, asking for a small favour before he went to bed the night before. He had then spent half the night watching his beautiful Elizabeth sleep so peacefully in his magic mirror, thanking whatever superior and divine power that had allowed him to have a glimpse and a taste, however brief, of what life would be like to have a loved one to share it with. The other half of his night was spent wallowing in self-pity.

As Fitzwilliam watched the love of his life ride away in his carriage, he felt his heart break into a million little pieces. It was as if Elizabeth had taken away a big chunk of his heart away as she rode off his castle ground. He couldn't even discreetly watch her from his mirror, now that he had given it to her in hope that she wouldn't forget him.

The only other gift he had given her, apart from the mirror, was a single red rose. It seemed an appropriate enough parting gift, as after all, it was one single red rose that had brought her into his life.

Elizabeth's journey home was fairly smooth. When she got out of her carriage and knocked on the door of her old home, she was all giddy with excitement.

It was Mary who opened the door to an Elizabeth who was almost bursting with happiness.

"Lizzy?" Mary stared at her in disbelief. Then suddenly realising that it wasn't apparition she was seeing, she squealed in delight, and then ran forward to hug her sister.

"Mary!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she greeted her sister, and then let out a small yelp of surprise as she was pulled into a tight, affectionate embrace by her usually bookish, shy and introverted younger sibling.

"Goodness, Lizzy, is it really you?! We've missed you so much! Wait till the others see you! Oh, Father has been so sick since you've gone missing! And I dare say Kitty and Lydia have been somewhat more tamed and helpful with the housework since you've been gone. Oh, Lizzy! I've missed you so much!" Mary gushed, non-stop. She caught her breath and hugged her lost sister tightly once more, and then turned around and shouted into the house, "Papa, Jane, Kitty, Lydia! Look who's back!"

As multiple footsteps were heard rushing down from the wooden stairs, Mary ushered Elizabeth into the house and closed the front door behind them.

Jane was the next to see Elizabeth and after letting out a gasp and then a squeal, like Mary before her, dashed towards her and pulled her sister into a warm hug. Lydia and Kitty soon joined their two older sisters, and then Mary was beckoned forward to join their group hug. Jane, Mary, Kitty and Lydia peppered their lost sister with questions and kisses. The youngest two, still not rid of all their bad habits, spent a fair amount of time gushing and fawning over Elizabeth's new gown, shoes, headgear and the carriage they had spotted outside their house. Elizabeth had sensed Lydia's jealousy, and for a few minutes had been worried that she would do something daft, such as going back to the palace in her place, but the thought was banished from her mind as quickly as it had entered.

As the group of girls slowly parted, Elizabeth saw her father standing by a doorway, leaning against the wooden pain. He looked paler and thinner than she last saw him, and his hair had all gone quite white.

"Papa!" Elizabeth blurted and flew into his embrace. Her already watery eyes immediately overflowed as two lines of tears ran down her rosy cheeks. "Oh, Papa, I've missed you so much!" She sobbed against her father's shoulder as he ran a comforting hand through her brown tresses.

"I've missed you too, dearest Lizzy. Now, don't cry, poppet. You're home now, all will be well," he said soothingly, and then planted a few kisses on the crown of her head.

The next few days passed in a flurry for Elizabeth and her family. She slept exceedingly well back in her own, familiar bed. The blue-eyed prince of her dreams no longer haunted her here at home. And with the Beast's mirror shoved into a faraway corner in one of her drawers and her extravagant gowns and accessories all hidden in Lydia's wardrobe, Elizabeth completely forgot about the Beast and her promise to return to him. Her two youngest sisters who had never shown much care or affection for her crowded around her every day, telling her of how their lives had changed since the day she disappeared. Elizabeth was most touched by their displays, to say the least, though she knew that in essentials, Lydia and Kitty were still much the same – two lively and too carefree girls.

Elizabeth was kept busy every second since her return, catching up with the running of the household (which she and Jane had used to share responsibility for), meeting up with old neighbours and going shopping with her sisters. Just like the old times, she spent a great portion of her time in her father's study as well, playing chess, reading, and debating with him.

On the fifth day of his favourite daughter's return, Mr. Bennet received a letter sealed with wax, stamped with an unfamiliar royal emblem. It read:

 _Dear Sir,_

 _I have recently heard from my brother of your misfortunes at sea which resulted in the ruination of your merchandise and family's finance and fortunes. My brother claims to know your daughter intimately and have thus generously decided to restore whatever amount of goods etc. that you have lost in the tempest at sea._

 _I am not at the liberty to disclose my brother's name, but please be assured that he is a most trustworthy and respectable person._

 _Please write me back the exact or estimated amount your lost goods costed that you wish to be restored. I will have a trusted messenger deliver the money to your home as soon as possible._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _HRH Georgiana Bingley_

 _Princess of Netherfield_

Lydia immediately exclaimed over the letter and their 'good luck and fortunes'. "La, a princess! A Princess Georgiana of Netherfield no less! She wrote to us – a princess wrote to us! God must have finally taken pity on us. Quickly pen a reply to her letter, Papa. Will we be moving back to our old house? Oh, just think of all the new fancy dresses and fashionable bonnets! We can finally buy colourful, new gowns that are in season now! And we will not have to work anymore. Oh, Kitty, can you imagine it all?"

Kitty, who had already been daydreaming about their new life, agreed with Lydia vociferously. The younger girls let out a deafeningly high-pitched squeal, and then giggled in excitement.

"Papa, what are you going to do about it? Who is this mysterious brother?" Elizabeth asked in concern, her voice cutting through her youngest sisters' high-pitched voices.

"And which of the five of us is she speaking about, Papa?" the usually unsuspecting Jane asked.

"I don't know, my dears. Perhaps I shall find that out when I write her back. We lose nothing if we give her the amount I lost anyway," their father responded while quietly contemplating how he should compose his reply. "Don't worry, girls, she does seem quite sincere and honest."

Though still feeling slightly pensive, Elizabeth, Jane and Mary all nodded in assent. Thus, a short letter was quickly penned and sent out to the return address, and the family of six waited eagerly for the reply which two days later in the form of a messenger.

"Mr. William Collins at your service, Sir." Mr Bennet made out the silhouette of a short and stout man against the dim moonlight as he executed a ridiculous bow. His hands held a thick package bound neatly by strings.

Mr. Bennet had quickly opened the package to find the exact amount of money he had requested in his letter to the Princess of Netherfield along with a short note. He immediately composed a quick letter of thanks and further inquired into the identity of this mysterious brother who he and his family owed their gratitude towards.

"Who do you work for, Mr. Collins?" Mr. Bennet asked as he handed the man his reply.

"Why, Her Royal Highness the Princess of Netherfield, of course!" He replied feelingly, as if affronted by Mr. Bennet's ignorance. "Her Highness is the kindest and most generous of rulers and I feel most privileged and thankful to be working for her."

"And who is her brother, do you know?"

"Ah well, rumour has it that he died a few years before she ascended the throne of Pemberley. But there are, of course, many theories behind his alleged death that many believe was but a disappearance from the public eye. Some say that our Princess fought and succeeded in escaping from her abusive brother by locking him into a room in the castle. I have also heard stories of him being cursed by a witch, or–"

Mr. Bennet interrupted the man's monologue. "Pemberley, you say?"

"Yes, Sir."

Upon receiving this information, Mr. Bennet thanked the man and made a mental note to himself to talk through his suspicions with his second daughter on the morrow.

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The clock's ticking fast! Think Lizzy will make it before Darcy's curse becomes permanent?


	11. Chapter 10

Yay, it's Tuesday! and today, I present you with the last chapter of TTOAR! :') As always, thanks, Felicia!  
P.S. I know that some parts of this story may seem quite unreal or doesn't make much logical sense to you, but then this is just a fairytale and fairytales rarely do make any logical sense at all.

* * *

 **Chapter 10**  
 _Countdown: 0 days_

"Papa, you asked to see me?" Elizabeth asked as she stepped into her father's study. The family had just finished their supper. The five sisters had been singing and playing the piano, embroidering and sewing in the drawing room, when Mary came out from their father's study from having borrowed a book and told Elizabeth that their father had just asked for her.

"Yes, I did. Shut the door please, Lizzy, and have a seat," was Mr. Bennet's reply. She did as she was told, feeling a sense of foreboding at her father's serious tone and slightly frowning face.

Mr. Bennet then proceeded to tell his daughter of his meeting with the messenger last night and the letter he had received from the Princess this morning. Although the Princess had not revealed her brother's identity in as many words, her reluctance to do so and her concealment, coupled with what the messenger had said, confirmed his suspicions that the mysterious brother was indeed the monster that lived in the isolated and abandoned castle situated on the border of Pemberley. Yet the reason behind him helping his family still remained a mystery, thus he prayed that his daughter would be able to shed some light on it for him.

"You never told me what happened in the few months you were gone, you know, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth started at her father's chosen topic of conversation, then visibly blanched when she realised that she had all but forgotten the Beast's ultimatum. Doing a quick mental calculation, she was hit by the sudden recognition that she needed to race back to the castle soon or she would be late!

Her father must have seen her flinch as he continued questioning her. "Did he mistreat you? Did you eat well, sleep well?"

"You know you can tell your old man anything right, Lizzy?" He said soothingly, when Elizabeth still did not respond. "Was he horribly cruel–"

"No!" Mr. Bennet was stunned by his daughter's uncharacteristic sudden outburst, and watched sceptically as her face turned into a deep shade of scarlet pink.

"I mean, no, he wasn't cruel at all!" Elizabeth continued, highly embarrassed. Mr. Bennet eyed his daughter dubiously and raised an eyebrow at her. "He _was_ a bit rude and hostile at first, but he has turned out to be quite an agreeable companion and attentive friend."

"Please do tell me all about it then," he prompted her in a not a little sarcastic tone, though his curiosity was admittedly piqued. Elizabeth did as she was told, not leaving out those odd dreams she had and her reactions to the Beast's two proposals of marriage. When she finally finished the story by telling him of the Beast's last words, her father remained silent and contemplative for a while, before replying her.

Seeing his daughter's agitation etched so clearly on her face, Mr. Bennet's heart broke, knowing that what he was to say would part him with his favourite child forever. "You should return to him, Lizzy, especially now that I seriously believe that he is our mysterious rescuer. I do not know how to thank him for all that he has done for us otherwise, as there is no possible way I could ever pay him back."

"He wouldn't want you to do that anyway," Elizabeth replied in a small voice. She didn't want to part with her family yet again, and so soon, but she knew her father was right. She had, after all, made a promise to the Beast, who had been nothing but kind to her albeit being a tad frightening at the beginning. She let out a deep sigh and tried to clear her quickly tearing-up eyes. Her father, being the ever so observant man he was, had noticed her watery eyes and opened his arms wide for a hug. She quickly scrambled into them and sobbed quietly into his white shirt, while he whispered comforting words to her ears and planted soft kisses on her forehead.

"Everything will be all right, dearest Lizzy. We will see each other again someday, I know we will," he vowed. "After all, you did admit that he is a very _attentive_ friend." He chuckled lightly, bringing a small smile upon his daughter's face. Her father could never give up any opportunity to tease her.

"I'm sure he will treat you well, poppet. And don't you worry about your old man, all right? Your sisters and I are going to be just fine," he continued after sobering up.  
"I know you're right, Papa, but I'll miss you all so much," Elizabeth murmured while snuggling closer into her father's embrace, then inhaled deeply, as if she was trying to commit his very smell and heartbeat into her memory.

"I'm sure he won't mind if you spend one more night with your family before returning to him at first light on the morrow," her father said in a forced cheery tone as he planted one last kiss on his daughter's cheek. "I shall have your horse and carriage prepared, along with a trunk of your belongings and trinkets before you leave."

The twosome left Mr. Bennet's study together, with the older man's arm tightly wrapped around his daughter's slim shoulders.

Daylight came in a blink of an eye, and neither Mr. Bennet nor Elizabeth slept a wink. Elizabeth had been in her room packing her trunks while listening to the birds chirping sweetly outside her bedroom window, making her leaving all the more bittersweet. She watched as her sister, Jane, slept so soundly in the bed next to hers, and her eyes once again welled with tears. In a room beneath the sisters', Mr. Bennet laid in his bed contemplating the irony that the man who had so kindly and generously restored his family's fortunes and status should be the one to take his favourite daughter away from him.

The farewells took longer than Elizabeth expected. By the time her belongings had been loaded and her father was assisting her into the carriage, the scorching sun had already fully risen.

Elizabeth fell into a restless slumber halfway through her journey back to the Beast's castle. Her sleep was assaulted by visions of the Beast's ill form lying limp and frighteningly still on the castle's floor, and of images of the Beast's agonising howl which did not cease ringing in Elizabeth's ears even when she awoke with beads of sweat on her forehead. Troubled by her dream, she waited with bated breath as her carriage slowly rolled into the familiar and splendid rose garden she had slowly, unknowingly grown to love. She alighted from the carriage with an impatient skip in her steps and abandoned her horse that stood obediently outside the front door of the castle. Gathering her gown and running into the great house in a most unladylike manner, she called out for the Beast. Yet when she received no reply to her calls and pleas after more than a quarter of an hour of searching, Elizabeth began to grow understandably worried.

When Elizabeth finally reached the Beast's chambers, she heard a soft groan followed by a thud answering to her anxious cries.

"Beast?" Elizabeth exclaimed upon seeing his weak form lying on the cold marble floor of his balcony.

"You came back?" Fitzwilliam tried to speak, but his mumbled words sounded more like a painful moan to the receiver.

"Beast?" Elizabeth said again, softly this time, trying to choke back tears while she approached him and crouched down in front of him, holding out one hand to tenderly brush his mane.

"Fiz…Fit-z-will-i-am," he said haltingly while coughing.

"Fitzwilliam?"

He replied with a weak nod. "You are late. Go home. It's too late."

"What do you mean 'go home'? What is too late?" Elizabeth cried, utterly confused and distressed. "I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to be late! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Elizabeth sobbed repeatedly, as she flung her body onto Fitzwilliam's cold and trembling one, her arms wrapped tightly around his once strong shoulders. She quietly wept into his soft, dark fur, while Fitzwilliam savoured the feel of her small body pressed against his, and how his now-foreign name sounded so warm and elegant on her tongue.

"'Lizbeth, go," he said weakly after her sobbing had calmed. "Go home. You're free to go now."

"What? Why would I? I just came back!" was her impassioned reply.

"Too late, too late. It's too late."

She shot up and stared into Fitzwilliam's mesmerising blue eyes that looked dim and dull. "What is too late? Are you dying? No, you cannot die! I just came back, you cannot leave me!" She cried while shaking his weary body rather forcefully. The thought of living her life without him seemed so desolate and unimaginable to Elizabeth that only then did she finally realise that she had loved him, the way a woman loves a man and the way a wife ought to love her husband, all this time. Thus, when a soft repetitive "too late, it's too late," was all Elizabeth got in reply, she responded in the only way a woman violently in love with a dying person could – fiercely and fervently.

"I will not leave you, you cannot make me!"

But Fitzwilliam only repeated the same phrase over and over again, as if he did not hear her at all. And in the moment, it would have been impossible for Fitzwilliam to have heard her, or anything else, for that matter, as his whole fur-covered body was in tremendous pain. All of his muscles were aching; his teeth were starting to clatter against the cold wind, his limbs felt numb and the only thing he was aware of, apart from the fact that the woman who he had given his heart to was beside him, was that he was feeling so very tired.

Elizabeth held up one of his furry paws against her face, succeeding, at last, in catching his attention. She watched as his arm and body stiffened, and his blue eyes opened saucer-wide. Then slowly, he allowed his paw to delicately caress the skin of her tear-stained cheek, using one finger to carefully catch a falling tear.

"'Lizbeth, so bea-u-ti-ful," he murmured in a barely audible voice. His sweet words contrasted with his coarse voice full of adoration made a new bout of tears flow from her eyes.

"Don't leave me," Elizabeth whispered in reply. "I – I love you."

Fitzwilliam gave her a small, tender smile. His eyes, though heavy, were still as blue as ever, and there, they spoke of his deepest feelings: his love, respect and admiration for her, which he could not find enough words (or time) to express. His eyes then slipped shut on their own accord. Elizabeth shook his body forcefully trying to awaken him; all the while her own frame trembled from the force of her grief as wails wrecked her body from the deepest, inner-most part of her soul.

At this moment, dearest readers, a most spectacular thing happened. The sky cracked open and along with a downpour, a bright column of white light shot down from heaven onto the Beast's limp body, slowly raising him skyward. He was suspended in mid-air for a millisecond, till the light shone around his body, momentarily blinding Elizabeth, who had been sitting on the floor, staring up at Fitzwilliam's body and mouth agape with wonder, all the while wondering if she was still asleep and dreaming.

When Elizabeth next opened her eyes, she found herself staring down at the face and body of the handsome young prince who had previously haunted her dreams at night. Gone were the Beast's dark fur, horns, paws and sharp teeth.

Still frozen in shock and disbelief, her brain took a longer time than was her wont to take in what exactly had happened and realise what exactly it meant.

Elizabeth gasped as she took in the sight before her. The Beast had transformed into the prince in her dreams! Why had it happened? How did it happen? Were they the same person? What happened to the Beast, no, Fitzwilliam?

At that moment, as if sensing Elizabeth's thoughts, Fitzwilliam groaned and slowly blinked open his heavy eyes. He heaved a sigh as he sat up and rubbed his eyes wearily. Then all of a sudden, he halted his movements and widened his eyes in shock, the last remnants of sleep slipping away from him in an instant. As if only perceiving his companion's intent stare, he whipped his head towards her. As their eyes locked, Fitzwilliam saw that Elizabeth's equally stunned face mirrored his own and gawked at her incredulously. _I must be dreaming_ , he thought to himself. But his reverie was soon interrupted by a soft squeak that emitted from Elizabeth's throat.

"Fitzwilliam?" she repeated his name, her small voice still trembling from awe and stupefaction.

He refocussed his attention onto her person, abruptly realising that his Elizabeth was indeed very real and standing right before him, he stood up slowly, trying to familiarise himself with balancing and walking on his two very human feet. Elizabeth watched him for a while before impulse and impatience took over her as she hurled herself onto his sturdy form and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

At the sudden impact, Fitzwilliam stumbled a few steps and, unable to stabilise himself in time, found himself falling backwards onto his back onto the wet, marble floor. His strong arms immediately enfolded themselves around Elizabeth's small body to cushion her fall. As they landed onto the ground, all Fitzwilliam could think of was the delightful feel of her soft curves pressed against his hard plane. Completely forgetting their location and emboldened by Elizabeth's affectionate display, he slowly and gently tilted her laughing face towards him and kissed her, moulding their lips together. After thoroughly devouring her, Fitzwilliam held her flushed face in between his palms and a sense of utter bliss and fulfilment washed over him. Everything was perfect and right in his world.

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Are y'all finally happy now? Epilogue up on Saturday!


	12. Epilogue

Oh Lordie! I'm so sorry for forgetting to post! I've been feeling so ill these few days. Anyway. I can't believe this is the end! I've been working on 'Sun-kissed' (I posted a snippet of it in Coming Attractions a while ago) but it's progressing very very slowly, so I can't promise anything yet. Thank you so so much for reading my story and following ODC throughout this journey! It's been an honour to share TTOAR with you all :') I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! Also, here's a big thank you to Felicia who was my beta for this story. And lastly, enjoy this epilogue!

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 **Epilogue**

 _Are we still counting?_

The two new lovers had remained together for what seemed like a century to Elizabeth, both losing track of time in their comforting embrace alternating with ardent kisses. As if heaven was rejoicing in the two souls finding each other, the dark clouds that had gathered during the transformation of the beast vanished and in its place was the sudden appearance of the bright sun and a glorious rainbow.

Staring up at the clear blue sky, Elizabeth had smiled sweetly and sighed, "Oh, isn't this just too beautiful?"

Fitzwilliam, not giving a care to the sky, looked adoringly at the young maiden still in his arms and said in reply, "I do have to agree with you in this instant."

Elizabeth, who was suddenly overwhelmed with shyness, had sensed that he was not speaking of the same thing as she, and thus allowed his words to bring about their desired effect as a most becoming shade of pink painted her cheeks.

"Guess you shan't be losing your little entertainment so soon too," he teased, and then, just before planting an affectionate kiss on the crown of her head, he whispered softly into her dark brown curls, "my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth."

At such a declaration, Elizabeth could have done naught but to reward her lover by standing on her tip toes and touching her lips against his for a chaste kiss. Then letting out a contented little sigh, she snuggled deeper into the warm space between Fitzwilliam's neck and chest.

"I never did thank you for what you did for my family, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth slowly started speaking to his broad chest after a while. "No one except my father and I are privy to your kindness, but all the same, we owe you our never-ending gratitude." When she felt him stiffen ever so slightly, she directed a quick glance towards his face, wishing, but to no avail, to make out what he was thinking.

"I had not thought my sister or her servants were so little to be trusted," he had replied after a few moments of deliberation. "And I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," he continued with great feeling, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness."

"You must not blame them, for it was my father who had pieced together his suspicions and came upon such a conclusion. But please let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for your generosity to a family who has brought you nothing but difficulty."

"If you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone. I shall not attempt to deny that the wish of giving happiness to you might have added force to the other inducements which led me on. Much as I felt the need to apologise to your father, one way or another, for the horrendous way in which I treated him in the first place, I believe I thought only of you.

"And to say that your last sentence is a mistake would be the grossest understatement."

Here, Elizabeth had tried to protest by saying that she had acted like a brat and was mortified with the accusations she had thrown at him – that he was a murderer! The thought of it was almost laughable, but Fitzwilliam would not hear any of it.

By then, Elizabeth had already moved out of his embrace a long while ago. She stood with eyes downcast in embarrassment as he started telling her the story of his curse and how he came to be the lonely, resentful and angry creature he had become – until she came.

"You saved me from myself, Elizabeth." He had said with emotion. "You broke a curse that I thought would never be broken. How could you ever be a bother? You are anything but!"

After that, he shared with her some of his most precious memories of his childhood, and in return, though shyly at first, Elizabeth told him some stories of her own – secrets she had never shared with another soul, not even Jane or her father, and how much she still missed her long-gone mother.

When the moment came when Fitzwilliam felt it right to ask Elizabeth for her hand in marriage, he had bent down on one knee and glanced up into her eyes, took her small hands in his and said, "I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. You have taught me to hope, when I thought all hope was lost. You have brought into my life a light and joy that I never thought I would ever feel again. Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, will you make me the happiest of man by forgiving me for all my past failings and be my wife?"

Lost in her lover's mesmerising blue eyes, Elizabeth took more than half a minute to reply, but the tears of happiness that were streaming down her face reassured Fitzwilliam and cleared him of any last doubts he might have had.

Their love was not as much as a meeting of two hearts than one of the meeting of two minds. As they grew to know and understand more about one another, they all but fell deeper in love with each other.

More than two months had passed since that day, and today saw Elizabeth looking most angelic in an elegant and intricately designed full-length white wedding gown. It had a modest neckline made of lace, with glimmering pearls woven into it, yet half of her smooth back was exposed by the dress' deep U-shaped plunge. She wore no jewelleries apart from her engagement gift – a beautiful diamond necklace that rested slightly above her bosom. On her head was a crown of perfectly balanced halo of tight brown curls, whilst the rest of her hair was pulled up into a gentle twirl at the nape of her slender neck. The chignon bun was accented with tiny white pearls that matched those that decorated her gown. A sparkling silver tiara sat on the top of her head, holding her almost-transparent veil in place. In Elizabeth's right hand was a bunch of wild red roses that she had picked in the castle's garden just before dawn that day, while her left hand was held tightly by her beaming but teary father.

As Fitzwilliam stood at the altar next to his younger sister, he watched his betrothed with a look of sheer adoration and devotion as she slowly ascended the grand stairs step by step with her father by her side. _She is absolutely stunning! And she is to be mine!_ He thought with a pride and glee that he never knew he could feel, as the wide smile on his face broadened, if at all possible. His heart felt so full that he thought it may burst from his chest!

Nobody present, seeing the faces of the soon-to-be-married couple, could ever doubt their affections for each other as everything was written on their faces as clear as day.

Throughout the joyous ceremony, the only coherent thought in Fitzwilliam's mind was how lucky he was to have gained the hand, and most importantly, the love of such a beautiful, brave, kind and caring woman.

His bride's face was radiant with infectious love and happiness. They kept their gazes locked together the entire time the ceremony was conducted, even while saying their own vows. When it finally came to the time for Elizabeth to be parted from her family, it was done in tearful farewells along with hopeful promises to see each other soon.

Georgiana Bingley née Darcy, who had travelled to Pemberley with her husband two weeks prior her brother's wedding with good news of her own – that she was expecting, had got on famously well with her new sister, Elizabeth. Georgiana also expressed her immense guilt for not visiting her brother and caring for him more often, but Fitzwilliam waved away all of her apologies, happy to once again have his dearest sister by his side. Both Elizabeth and Georgiana knew that although Fitzwilliam would most likely never admit it, he loved to watch the two women whom he loved most in the world spend time laughing, going out for walks, or even teasing him together. However, he had to grant that the two of them really did make a formidable pair.

After their settling into their newly renovated and redecorated castle which they now call home, Fitzwilliam reclaimed the throne to Pemberley. To quell the rumours that had been spreading like wildfire throughout the country about his disappearance, the Darcys chose to disclose as much truth as possible without intruding on the privacy of their own selves and their families.

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had their own share of marital spats, though they would always find ways to solve them.

The Darcys' lives were not ones filled only with comfort and pleasures but also sorrow and hardships, for three years into the marriage of Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, her dearest father had passed away peacefully in his sleep. However, one would say that the Lord always works in miraculous ways, as a month after the passing of Mr. Bennet came the birth of little Jane Anne Darcy, Princess of Pemberley. After little Jane, Elizabeth experienced two miscarriages, both resulting in deep emotional loss for the unborn babies' parents. Those dark days reminded Fitzwilliam of how lost and withdrawn his own father had become after losing his wife. Vowing he would not follow his father's footsteps in this respect, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth found strength within one another throughout these adversities and weathered the storms together, their love becoming even stronger in the process.

When little Jane was almost five, Elizabeth bore Fitzwilliam a second child, a son, the heir to Pemberley's throne, who they named Bennet Fitzwilliam Darcy after his late grandfather. Bennet was given two more sisters – a pair of identical twins, Isobelle and Isabella – at the age of four. The twins had their papa wrapped around their little fingers from the moment they were brought into the Earth. Their lively and mischievous disposition (which they inherited from their mother, as Fitzwilliam never ceased to remind Elizabeth) caused much headache among Pemberley's loyal staff, but they always managed to redeem themselves, somehow. Pemberley was thus once again filled with joy and light, and children's laughter rang brightly throughout its halls.

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, crowned King and Queen of Pemberley, ruled their country together in peace and harmony for sixty years, before Elizabeth passed away at the ripe old age of seventy-eight. Fitzwilliam, after seeing his youngest daughter, Georgina, happily married and settled, followed his wife to his maker four months later at the age of eighty-five.

Elizabeth remained close with her elder sister, Jane, who fell in love with and later married a neighbour's distant cousin whom she met while he was paying a visit to his aunt. The bookish Mary grew into a young woman who was wise beyond her age, and thus became a most trusted and reliable advisor in Pemberley's courts, the first female politician. Elizabeth's two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, blossomed under the care and guidance of Elizabeth. Kitty, who had long since reverted her name back to Catherine, turned out to have hidden artistic talents. Great masters were sent for from all over the world, and she soon became a renowned artist, painting portraits for ladies and gentlemen in high-societies. As time passed, Lydia too matured, turning into a bright and beautiful young woman who broke the hearts of many a young man, though not out of malice of any kind.

In the end, dearest readers, this tale is but the beginning of Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth's happy and fulfilling lives together as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, King and Queen of Pemberley.

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Leave me some parting words in your reviews!


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